He knew how to do something like this _every day_. What a treasure to a mess!
The _Forager_ was a good fellow. He always divided with the mess. If there was b.u.t.termilk anywhere inside of ten miles he found it. Apples he could smell from afar off. If anybody was killing pork in the county he got the spare-ribs. If a man had a cider cart on the road he saw him first and bought him out. No _hound_ had a keener scent, no eagle a sharper eye. How indefatigable he was! Distance, rivers, mountains, pickets, patrols, roll-calls,--nothing could stop or hinder him. He never bragged about his exploits; simply brought in the spoils, laid them down, and said, "Pitch in." Not a word of the weary miles he had traveled, how he begged or how much he paid,--simply "Pitch in."
[Ill.u.s.tration]
The _Commissary_ man--he happened to be in our mess--never had any sugar over, any salt, any soda, any coffee--oh, no! But beg him, plead with him, bear with him when he says, "Go way, boy! Am I the commissary-general? Have I got all the sugar in the Confederacy? Don"t you know rations are short now?" Then see him relax. "Come here, my son; untie that bag there, and look in that old jacket, and you will find another bag,--a little bag,--and look in there and you will find some sugar. Now go round and tell everybody in camp, won"t you. Tell "em all to come and get some sugar. _Oh! I know you won"t. Oh yes, of course!_"
As a general rule every mess had a "Bully" and an "Argument man." Time would fail me to tell of the "lazy man," the "brave man," the "worthless man," the "ingenious man," the "helpless man," the "sensitive man," and the "gentleman," but they are as familiar to the members of the mess as the "honest man," who would not eat stolen pig, but would "take a little of the gravy."
Every soldier remembers--indeed, was personally acquainted with--the _Universal_ man. How he denied vehemently his own ident.i.ty, and talked about "poison oak," and heat, and itch, and all those things, and strove, in the presence of those who knew how it was themselves, to prove his absolute freedom from anything like "universality!" Poor fellow! sulphur internally and externally would not do. Alas! his only hope was to acknowledge his unhappy state, and stand, in the presence of his peers, confessed.
The "Boys in Blue" generally preferred to camp in the open fields. The Confeds took to the woods, and so the Confederate camp was not as orderly or as systematically arranged, but the most picturesque of the two. The blazing fire lit up the forms and faces and trees around it with a ruddy glow, but only deepened the gloom of the surrounding woods; so that the soldier pitied the poor fellows away off on guard in the darkness, and, hugging himself, felt how good it was to be with the fellows around the fire. How companionable was the blaze and the glow of the coals! They warmed the heart as well as the foot. The imagination seemed to feed on the glowing coals and surrounding gloom, and when the soldier gazed on the fire peace, liberty, home, strolls in the woods and streets with friends, the church, the school, playmates, and sweethearts all pa.s.sed before him, and even the dead came to mind. Sadly, yet pleasantly, he thought of the loved and lost; the future loomed up, and the possibility of death and prison and the grief at home would stir his heart, and the tears would fall trickling to the ground. Then was the time to fondle the little gifts from home; simple things,--the little pin-cushion, the needle-case, with thread and b.u.t.tons, the embroidered tobacco bag, and the knitted gloves. Then the time to gaze on photographs, and to read and re-read the letter telling of the struggles at home, and the coming box of good things,--b.u.t.ter and bread, toasted and ground coffee, sugar cakes and pies, and other comfortable things, prepared, by self-denial, for the soldier, brother, and son. Then the time to call on G.o.d to spare, protect, and bless the dear, defenseless, helpless ones at home. Then the time for high resolves; to read to himself his duty; to "re-enlist for the war." Then his heart grew to his comrades, his general, and his country; and as the trees, swept by the wintry winds, moaned around him, the soldier slept and dreamed, and dreamed of home, sweet home.
Those whose knowledge of war and its effects on the character of the soldier was gleaned from the history of the wars of Europe and of ancient times, greatly dreaded the demoralization which they supposed would result from the Confederate war for independence, and their solicitude was directed mainly towards the young men of Virginia and the South who were to compose the armies of the Confederate States. It was feared by many that the bivouac, the camp-fires, and the march would accustom the ears of their bright and innocent boys to obscenity, oaths, and blasphemy, and forever destroy that purity of mind and soul which was their priceless possession when they bid farewell to home and mother. Some feared the destruction of the battle-field; the wiser feared hardship and disease; and others, more than all, the destruction of morals and everything good and pure in character. That the fears of the last named were realized in some cases cannot be denied; but that the general result was demoralization can be denied, and the contrary demonstrated.
Let us consider the effect of camp-life upon a pure and n.o.ble boy; and to make the picture complete, let us go to his home and witness the parting. The boy is clothed as a soldier. His pockets and his haversack are stored with little conveniences made by the loving hands of mother, sister, and sweetheart, and the sad yet proud hour has arrived. Sisters, smiling through their tears, filled with commingled pride and sorrow, kiss and embrace their great hero. The mother, with calm heroism suppressing her tender maternal grief, impresses upon his lips a fervent, never-to-be-forgotten kiss, presses him to her heart, and resigns him to G.o.d, his country, and his honor. The father, last to part, presses his hand, gazes with ineffable love into his bright eyes, and, fearing to trust his feelings for a more lengthy farewell, says, "Good-by, my boy; G.o.d bless you; be a man!"
Let those scoff who will; but let them know that such a parting is itself a new and wonderful power, a soul-enlarging, purifying, and elevating power, worth the danger, toil, and suffering of the soldier.
The sister"s tears, the father"s words, the mother"s kiss, planted in the memory of that boy, will surely bring forth fruit beautiful as a mother"s love.
As he journeys to the camp, how dear do all at home become! Oh, what holy tears he sheds! His heart, how tender! Then, as he nears the line, and sees for the first time the realities of war, the pa.s.sing sick and weary, and the wounded and b.l.o.o.d.y dead, his soldier spirit is born; he smiles, his chest expands, his eyes brighten, his heart swells with pride. He hurries on, and soon stands in the magic circle around the glowing fire, the admired and loved pet of a dozen true hearts. Is he happy? Aye! Never before has he felt such glorious, swelling, panting joy. He"s a soldier now! He is put on guard. No longer the object of care and solicitude he stands in the solitude of the night, himself a guardian of those who sleep. Courage is his now. He feels he is trusted as a man, and is ready at once n.o.bly to perish in the defense of his comrades.
He marches. Dare he murmur or complain? No; the eyes of all are upon him, and endurance grows silently, till pain and weariness are familiar, and cheerfully borne. At home he would be pitied and petted; but now he must endure, or have the contempt of the strong spirits around him.
He is hungry,--so are others; and he must not only bear the privation, but he must divide his pitiful meal, when he gets it, with his comrades; and so generosity strikes down selfishness. In a thousand ways he is tried, and that by sharp critics. His smallest faults are necessarily apparent, for, in the varying conditions of the soldier, every quality is put to the test. If he shows the least cowardice he is undone. His courage must never fail. He must be manly and independent, or he will be told he"s a baby, ridiculed, teased, and despised. When war a.s.sumes her serious dress, he sees the helplessness of women and children, he hears their piteous appeals, and chivalry burns him, till he does his utmost of sacrifice and effort to protect, and comfort, and cheer them.
It is a mistake to suppose that the older men in the army encouraged vulgarity and obscenity in the young recruit; for even those who themselves indulged in these would frown on the first show of them in a boy, and without hesitation put him down mercilessly. No parent could watch a boy as closely as his mess-mates did and could, because they saw him at all hours of the day and night, dependent on himself alone, and were merciless critics, who demanded more of their _protege_ than they were willing to submit to themselves.
The young soldier"s piety had to perish ignominiously, or else a.s.sume a boldness and strength which nothing else could so well impart as the temptations, sneers, and dangers of the army. Religion had to be bold, practical, and courageous, or die.
In the army the young man learned to value men for what they were, and not on account of education, wealth, or station; and so his attachments, when formed, were sincere and durable, and he learned what const.i.tutes a man and a desirable and reliable friend. The stern demands upon the boy, and the unrelenting criticisms of the mess, soon bring to mind the gentle forbearance, kind remonstrance, and loving counsels of parents and homefolks; and while he thinks, he weeps, and loves, and reverences, and yearns after the things against which he once strove, and under which he chafed and complained. Home, father, mother, sister,--oh, how far away; oh, how dear! Himself, how contemptible, ever to have felt cold and indifferent to such love! Then, how vividly he recalls the warm pressure of his mother"s lips on the forehead of her boy! How he loves his mother! See him as he fills his pipe from the silk-embroidered bag.
There is his name embroidered carefully, beautifully, by his sister"s hand. Does he forget her? Does he not now love her more sincerely and truly and tenderly than ever? Could he love her quite as much had he never parted; never longed to see her and could not; never been uncertain if she was safe; never felt she might be homeless, helpless, insulted, a refugee from home? Can he ever now look on a little girl and not treat her kindly, gently, and lovingly, remembering his sister? A boy having ordinary natural goodness, and the home supports described, and the constant watching of men, ready to criticise, could but improve.
The least exhibition of selfishness, cowardice, vulgarity, dishonesty, or meanness of any kind, brought down the dislike of every man upon him, and persistence in _any one_ disreputable practice, or habitual laziness and worthlessness, resulted in complete ostracism, loneliness, and misery; while, on the other hand, he might, by good behavior and genuine generosity and courage, secure unbounded love and sincere respect from all.
Visits home, after prolonged absence and danger, open to the young soldier new treasures--new, because, though possessed always, never before felt and realized. The affection once seen only in every-day attention, as he reaches home, breaks out in unrestrained vehemence. The warm embrace of the hitherto dignified father, the ecstatic pleasure beaming in the mother"s eye, the proud welcome of the sister, and the wild enthusiasm even of the old black mammy, crowd on him the knowledge of their love, and make him braver, and stronger, and n.o.bler. He"s a hero from that hour! Death for these, how easy!
The dangers of the battle-field, and the demands upon his energy, strength, and courage, not only strengthen the old, but almost create new, faculties of mind and heart. The death, sudden and terrible, of those dear to him, the imperative necessity of standing to his duty while the wounded cry and groan, and while his heart yearns after them to help them, the terrible thirst, hunger, heat, and weariness,--all these teach a boy self-denial, attachment to duty, the value of peace and safety; and, instead of hardening him, as some suppose they do, make him pity and love even the enemy of his country, who bleeds and dies for _his_ country.
The acquirement of subordination is a useful one, and that the soldier perforce has; and that not in an abject, cringing way, but as realizing the necessity of it, and seeing the result of it in the good order and consequent effectiveness and success of the army as a whole, but more particularly of his own company and detachment. And if the soldier rises to office, the responsibility of command, attention to detail and minutiae, the critical eyes of his subordinates and the demands of his superiors, all withdraw him from the enticements of vice, and mould him into a solid, substantial character, both capable and willing to meet and overcome difficulties.
The effect of out-door life on the physical const.i.tution is undoubtedly good, and as the physical improves the mental is improved; and as the mind is enlightened the spirit is enn.o.bled. Who can calculate the benefit derived from the contemplation of the beautiful in nature, as the soldier sees? Mountains and valleys, dreary wastes and verdant fields, rivers, sequestered homes, quiet, sleepy villages, as they lay in the morning light, doomed to the flames at evening; scenes which alternately stir and calm his mind, and store it with a panorama whose pictures he may pa.s.s before him year after year with quiet pleasure. War is horrible, but still it is in a sense a privilege to have lived in time of war. The emotions are never so stirred as then. Imagination takes her highest flights, poetry blazes, song stirs the soul, and every n.o.ble attribute is brought into full play.
It does seem that the production of one Lee and one Jackson is worth much blood and treasure, and the building of a n.o.ble character all the toil and sacrifice of war. The camp-fires of the Army of Northern Virginia were not places of revelry and debauchery. They often exhibited scenes of love and humanity, and the purest sentiments and gentlest feelings of man were there admired and loved, while vice and debauch, in any from highest to lowest, were condemned and punished more severely than they are among those who stay at home and shirk the dangers and toils of the soldier"s life. Indeed, the demoralizing effects of the late war were far more visible "at home," among the skulks and bomb-proofs and suddenly diseased, than in the army. And the demoralized men of to-day are not those who served in the army. The defaulters, the renegades, the b.u.mmers and cheats, are the boys who enjoyed fat places and salaries and easy comfort; while the solid, respected, and reliable men of the community are those who did their duty as soldiers, and, having learned to suffer in war, have preferred to labor and suffer and earn, rather than steal, in peace.
And, strange to say, it is not those who suffered most and lost most, fought and bled, saw friend after friend fall, wept the dead and buried their hopes,--who are now bitter and dissatisfied, quarrelsome and fretful, growling and complaining; no, they are the peaceful, submissive, law-abiding, order-loving, of the country, ready to join hands with all good men in every good work, and prove themselves as brave and good in peace as they were stubborn and unconquerable in war.
Many a weak, puny boy was returned to his parents a robust, healthy, _manly man_. Many a timid, helpless boy went home a brave, independent man. Many a wild, reckless boy went home sobered, serious, and trustworthy. And many whose career at home was wicked and blasphemous went home changed in heart, with principles fixed, to comfort and sustain the old age of those who gave them to their country, not expecting to receive them again. Men learned that life was pa.s.sable and enjoyable without a roof or even a tent to shelter from the storm; that cheerfulness was compatible with cold and hunger; and that a man without money, food, or shelter need not feel utterly hopeless, but might, by employing his wits, find something to eat where he never found it before; and feel that, like a terrapin, he might make himself at home wherever he might be. Men did actually become as independent of the imaginary "necessities" as the very wild beasts. And can a man learn all this and not know better than another how to economize what he has, and how to appreciate the numberless superfluities of life? Is he not made, by the knowledge he has of how little he really needs, more independent and less liable to dishonest exertions to procure a competency?
If there were any true men in the South, any brave, any n.o.ble, they were in the army. If there are good and true men in the South now, they would go into the army for similar cause. And to prove that the army demoralized, you must prove that the men who came out of it are the worst in the country to-day. Who will try it?
Strange as it may seem, religion flourished in the army. So great was the work of the chaplains that whole volumes have been written to describe the religious history of the four years of war. Officers who were unG.o.dly men found themselves restrained alike by the grandeur of the piety of the great chiefs, and the earnestness of the humble privates around them. Thousands embraced the Gospel, and died triumphing over death. Instead of the degradation so dreaded, was the strange enn.o.bling and purifying which made men despise all the things for which they ordinarily strive, and glory in the sternest hardships, the most bitter self-denials, cruel suffering, and death. Love for home, kindred, and friends, intensified, was denied the gratification of its yearnings, and made the motive for more complete surrender to the stern demands of duty. Discipline, the cold master of our enemies, never caught up with the gallant devotion of our Christian soldiers, and the science of war quailed before the majesty of an army singing hymns.
Hypocrisy went home to dwell with the able-bodied skulkers, being too closely watched in the army, and too thoroughly known to thrive. And so the camp-fire often lighted the pages of the best Book, while the soldier read the orders of the Captain of his salvation. And often did the songs of Zion ring out loud and clear on the cold night air, while the muskets rattled and the guns boomed in the distance, each intensifying the significance of the other, testing the sincerity of the Christian while trying the courage of the soldier. Stripped of all sensual allurements, and offering only self-denial, patience, and endurance, the Gospel took hold of the deepest and purest motives of the soldiers, won them thoroughly, and made the army as famous for its forbearance, temperance, respect for women and children, sobriety, honesty, and morality as it was for endurance and invincible courage.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Never was there an army where feeble old age received such sympathy, consideration, and protection. Women, deprived of their natural protectors, fled from the advancing hosts of the enemy, and found safe retreat and chivalrous protection and shelter in the lines of the Army of Northern Virginia. Children played in the camps, delighted to nestle in the arms of the roughly-clad but tender-hearted soldiers. Such was the behavior of the troops on the campaign in Pennsylvania, that the citizens of Gettysburg have expressed wonder and surprise at their perfect immunity from insult, violence, or even intrusion, when their city was occupied by and in complete possession of the Boys in Gray.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER XII.
THE CONFEDERATE BATTLE-FLAG.
This banner, the witness and inspiration of many victories, which was proudly borne on every field from Mana.s.sas to Appomattox, was conceived on the field of battle, lived on the field of battle, and on the last fatal field ceased to have place or meaning in the world. But the men who followed it, and the world which watched its proud advance or defiant stand, see in it still the unstained banner of a brave and generous people, whose deeds have outlived their country, and whose final defeat but added l.u.s.tre to their grandest victories.
It was not the flag of the Confederacy, but simply the banner, the battle-flag, of the Confederate soldier. As such it should not share in the condemnation which our _cause_ received, or suffer from its downfall. The whole world can unite in a chorus of praise to the gallantry of the men who followed where this banner led.
It was at the battle of Mana.s.sas, about four o"clock of the afternoon of the 21st of July, 1861, when the fate of the Confederacy seemed trembling in the balance, that General Beauregard, looking across the Warrenton turnpike, which pa.s.sed through the valley between the position of the Confederates and the elevations beyond occupied by the Federal line, saw a body of troops moving towards his left and the Federal right. He was greatly concerned to know, but could not decide, what troops they were, whether Federal or Confederate. The similarity of uniform and of the colors carried by the opposing armies, and the clouds of dust, made it almost impossible to decide.
Shortly before this time General Beauregard had received from the signal officer, Captain Alexander, a dispatch, saying that from the signal station in the rear he had sighted the colors of this column, drooping and covered with the dust of journeyings, but could not tell whether they were the Stars and Stripes or the Stars and Bars. He thought, however, that they were probably Patterson"s troops arriving on the field and reenforcing the enemy.
General Beauregard was momentarily expecting help from the right, and the uncertainty and anxiety of this hour amounted to anguish. Still the column pressed on. Calling a staff officer, General Beauregard instructed him to go at once to General Johnston, at the Lewis House, and say that the enemy were receiving heavy reenforcements, that the troops on the plateau were very much scattered, and that he would be compelled to retire to the Lewis House, and there re-form, hoping that the troops ordered up from the right would arrive in time to enable him to establish and hold the new line.
[Ill.u.s.tration: HERE ARE THE COLORS!]
Meanwhile, the unknown troops were pressing on. The day was sultry, and only at long intervals was there the slightest breeze. The colors of the mysterious column hung drooping on the staff. General Beauregard tried again and again to decide what colors they carried. He used his gla.s.s repeatedly, and handing it to others begged them to look, hoping that their eyes might be keener than his.
General Beauregard was in a state of great anxiety, but finally determined to hold his ground, relying on the promised help from the right; knowing that if it arrived in time victory might be secured, but feeling also that if the mysterious column should be Federal troops the day was lost.
Suddenly a puff of wind spread the colors to the breeze. It was the Confederate flag,--the Stars and Bars! It was Early with the Twenty-Fourth Virginia, the Seventh Louisiana, and the Thirteenth Mississippi. The column had by this time reached the extreme right of the Federal lines. The moment the flag was recognized, Beauregard turned to his staff, right and left, saying, "See that the day is ours!"
and ordered an immediate advance. In the mean time Early"s brigade deployed into line and charged the enemy"s right; Elzey, also, dashed upon the field, and in one hour not an enemy was to be seen south of Bull Run.
While on this field and suffering this terrible anxiety, General Beauregard determined that the Confederate soldier must have a flag so distinct from that of the enemy that no doubt should ever again endanger his cause on the field of battle.
Soon after the battle he entered into correspondence with Colonel William Porcher Miles, who had served on his staff during the day, with a view to securing his aid in the matter, and proposing a blue field, red bars crossed, and gold stars.
They discussed the matter at length. Colonel Miles thought it was contrary to the law of heraldry that the ground should be blue, the bars red, and the stars gold. He proposed that the ground should be red, the bars blue, and the stars white. General Beauregard approved the change, and discussed the matter freely with General Johnston. Meanwhile it became known that designs for a flag were under discussion, and many were sent in. One came from Mississippi; one from J.B. Walton and E.C.
Hanc.o.c.k, which coincided with the design of Colonel Miles. The matter was freely discussed at headquarters, till, finally, when he arrived at Fairfax Court House, General Beauregard caused his draughtsman (a German) to make drawings of all the various designs which had been submitted. With these designs before them the officers at headquarters agreed on the famous old banner,--the red field, the blue cross, and the white stars. The flag was then submitted to the War Department, and was approved.
The first flags sent to the army were presented to the troops by General Beauregard in person, he then expressing the hope and confidence that they would become the emblem of honor and of victory.
The first three flags received were made from "_ladies" dresses_" by the Misses Carey, of Baltimore and Alexandria, at their residences and the residences of friends, as soon as they could get a description of the design adopted. One of the Misses Carey sent the flag she made to General Beauregard. Her sister presented hers to General Van Dorn, who was then at Fairfax Court House. Miss Constance Carey, of Alexandria, sent hers to General Joseph E. Johnston.
General Beauregard sent the flag he received at once to New Orleans for safe keeping. After the fall of New Orleans, Mrs. Beauregard sent the flag by a Spanish man-of-war, then lying in the river opposite New Orleans, to Cuba, where it remained till the close of the war, when it was returned to General Beauregard, who presented it for safe keeping to the Washington Artillery, of New Orleans.